


Begin Again

by Dashboardjuliet



Series: Beginnings [2]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 14:32:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15269529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dashboardjuliet/pseuds/Dashboardjuliet
Summary: An au of my au where instead of being captured, Jonah isn't and continues on the path of the deputy.





	Begin Again

Lugging a dog into a hunting stand is not easy work. There is no easy way for her to communicate to Boomer that he is perfectly safe, that the ropes around his legs that keep him secure might hurt for a second, but the pain is better than spending the night on the ground where the Judges could get him. She can’t speak dog, so Jonah sticks to quiet coos and shushes as she leans back to pull him up. He doesn’t weigh much but it’s enough that her arms burn by the time she has him to the top of the platform, and her hands will be marked by rope burn for days. It is worth it, though, when he gets his front paws on the platform, then his back, and as he stands and shakes himself out, Jonah is pleased with herself.

They’re safe, at least for the night. Those terrible wolves of Jacob’s won’t be able to do much to them while they hide away in the trees, and she can take care of anyone that comes near them. The pistol at her side is a comfort, and she reaches out to dig her fur into the scruff of Boomer’s neck as he lolls against her side. His eyes drift closed as she steadily rakes her fingers through his coat, fur flying out of him every time she goes to repeat her motion. He’s shedding a crazy amount, and soon enough she’s covered in his fur. Giving him a solid pat, Jonah brings her hands back to her lap, unbuckling her gun harness from her waist and thigh to move it to sit next to her.

It’s a comfortable night in the Whitetails, one that if things hadn’t gone to shit, Jonah is sure she would be enjoying. Fireflies drift lazily, blinking in and out of existence in the night, mimicking the light of stars closer to the ground. For a moment, as she looks out over the unwalled platform that she has claimed as her home for the night, with sleep heavy in her eyes, she almost forgets which way is up. The colors in the dark mesh, and everything is shaded a beautiful dark blue that makes one tree indistinguishable from the next. If the cult didn’t exist, she’d be enjoying the night, laying out of her porch instead of in bed, maybe having invited Staci or Joey over for the night. She likes both of them equally, but she doesn’t expect the pain that echos from her chest when she thinks about their names. They’re perfectly pleasant to each other, and she likes them, but she’s done little to nothing to try and help them.

She hasn’t done much of anything, if she’s being honest with herself. Whitehorse had been so confident when he’d sent her out again after their being reunited, but so far all she’d done was run around and help individuals that she could. She’d done shit to help the people that she actually cared about. Guilt ate at her as she stared off into the distance, lights of some building in the distance illuminating a small corner of the night. Taking a deep breath, Jonah cleared her head. She couldn’t much of anything at night curled up in a tree stand. There really wasn’t much of anything for her to do. Boomer had drifted off, stuck in a dream where his feet twitched and tail thumped against the wood every few minutes. She wouldn’t wake him from it. So she resorts to doing what she normally does to pass the time: lose herself in her memories.

They make her sad, but it's hard not to let herself get stuck in them, especially with John around. She tries to avoid him at all costs, going out of her way to stay out of Holland Valley, choosing instead to haunt the Henbane and the Mountains. She couldn’t spend time close to him, although all the memories she seems to allow herself to indulge in were ones that involved him.

She knew it was stupid, but her fingers reach for the walkie talkie anyways. It was her one line to the outside world, to Dutch and Eli and Adelaide and everyone she’d grown to care about. Yet it was also her connection to him. Almost nonexistent, but still there. Flipping it on and tuning it to the almost unused channel, Jonah waits for a few moments, biting her bottom lip as she contemplated speaking. What would she say? How would he respond? Was the dead air enough of a comfort that she wouldn’t need to speak? It wasn’t, and she knew it. Squeezing her eyes shut, she pressed the button down to talk.

“John? Are you there?” Her voice almost seems to disappear in the night, joining the symphony of wolf howls and cicadas only to be covered up by their melody. She’s never fully enjoyed the way her voice sounded anyway, too deep to be feminine, but not deep enough to be considered sultry or desirable. It’s hers, and sometimes she’s more than happy to not hear herself.

“Why isn’t it the woman of the hour, Deputy Buche.” His voice sneers over the radio, static interfering but not enough to mask his tone. She can almost picture the way his mouth curls, eyebrows narrow of his blue eyes, sparkling with some emotion that is unknown to her. This wasn’t what she wanted, but he’s obviously heard of the headway she made in his brother’s area today, how Briggs was now back with Eli and safe with the Whitetails. Closing her eyes, Jonah leans her head back against the tree she is sitting up against. Boomer twitches under her hand as she reaches out to once again begin petting him. It’s an anchor in a sea that she knows she’s about to get lost in.

“So you heard.”

“If you are referencing the malicious display of your wrath on innocent people today, then yes, I have.”

“Can we not do this?” She asks, eyes opening to stare into the darkness. She knows it’s impossible, but a little part of her wants the lights in the distance to be him. For him to be looking for her, looking at her from the safety of whatever place he’s claimed as his home here. For him to just be focused on her in a small way that he used to be, not in the way that motivates him now. Or maybe it had always been that way, she’d just been to blind to see it. Since rediscovering him in Hope County, she’s realized that she never fully knew him at all. Hammering the radio softly on her head, the device is resting against her head when he responds.

“We can do many things besides this. Just tell me where you are. I can come get you and we can pick up where we left off.” She knows he doesn’t mean their relationship. He’s talking about the unfinished tattoo on her chest, the beginnings of scars that she had nearly avoided as he had been distracted by wheeling Joey away. Rubbing her chest, Jonah can’t help but let her mind drift to the thought that maybe he had meant both. Her dream comes to the forefront of her mind, them standing hand in hand with her large belly in between them, his hand on her. They could pick up where they left off. Her chest aches.

“Do you remember…” She has to pause, has to deliberate on her words. This could be a dangerous path, but she’s too far gone now with the image of his smile hanging in her sights, “Do you remember the ball the department threw for all of us officers a few years back, maybe four or so?” It’s a distant memory, but as she stares into the ever darkening night, she can’t help but think about it. She’d worn a dress colored similarly to the fireflies, gold and glorious. It had complimented her tan skin, and for a brief moment she wonders where the dress ended up. Probably tucked into the dark recesses of her closet in her poor cottage that she hadn’t been able to get to since the cult had ramped up.

The radio falls silent, and for a moment Jonah debates about turning it off. Obviously she said the wrong thing. He doesn’t want to talk about the past, and honestly she isn’t sure she wants to either. But then the radio sparks to life, and with her, her heart.

“Why are you bringing this up?” His voice has changed, no longer harsh and criticising, but softer. Softer than she’s heard him in a while, save for the baptism when he had spoken to Joseph.

“I don’t know. I was just thinking about it I guess. You wore a suit the color of the sky right now.” She glances upward, resting the radio on her throat and for a quick moment lets her think that it’s his hand, that he’s there with her. He isn’t, and the differences between them right now are staggering, they were then too but they just weren’t as obvious. He kept them well hidden.

“Well isn’t someone feeling poetic.” He teases, and the coldness isn’t there. If she could ignore everything that’s happened in the past month, in the past three years, she could imagine that they were still together.

“Do you remember how we danced? My captain looked at us like we were children.”

“But you didn’t care… and I didn’t either.” His voice is so soft, and she drifts. It had been a formal event, socializing more than anything. Dancing wasn’t exactly on the schedule, and her captain had been quite serious when he’d spoken with her and the force previously, stating how it was a charity event more than anything, raising money for a charity of the forces choosing. It was show, a pr event that they were supposed to smile and wave for, look pretty and show New Orleans that their police force could clean up just as well as they cleaned up the streets. That the city was in reliable hands. But John had different plans. He’d tucked his hand firmly around her waist and guided her around the room for hours after a few minutes of socializing. Tucked his clean shaven face into the corner of her neck and swung her to the beat of the soft music being played in the corner. Some of her coworkers had followed suit, and by the end of the event even her captain had been smiling. He knew how to woo a crowd, but more than that, he had wooed her.

“How about we get out of here,” She remembers him whispering into her neck, lips placed just so on her neck that his breath sent shivers down her spine. He always knew how to make her weak. She had looked at him in silence, unable to properly form a response. They had finally made things official maybe a year or so before after being casual for so long, and she was still amazed by the fact that she got to take him home. Even if they were long distance, they still managed to see each other enough. Jonah had nodded, allowed him to lead her from the ballroom and out to his car, all the while positively vibrating with excitement at what would be happening later. They had taken everything so slowly that night, it had taken him ages to get her out of her dress, and even longer for him to get out of his suit. It had been wonderful, and perfect, and had shaken her core.

“Are you still there or do I have to come ensure you’re still breathing?” His voice rings out from the radio, pulling her from her dreaming. She blinks, eyes focusing on the lights in the distance. She wants to close her eyes and escape back into the dream where things were easy, where he was pretending to be alright, and she was pretending the entire situation was okay. She wanted to ignore how broken he really was, and how she hadn’t seen it, hadn’t been able to help, hadn’t been so many things. Things had been so easy, but she knew they weren’t real.

“Do you ever wish we could go back?” She whispered, more to herself than him. She couldn’t imagine what he would say, and she kept her eyes locked on the lights as she waited for a reply. It took some time, enough that she convinced herself that he wasn’t going to respond.

“Sometimes. There’s always a sometimes, Jonah. But you left.” The coldness enters his voice again, and she squeezes her eyes shut. She had left, and she didn’t want to think about it what she had needed to do for herself. She didn’t want to have this conversation right now. She wanted to face him when they finally talked, let him see her face so he could understand.

“There is always tomorrow, Jonah. You will see the light, and your wrath will be forgiven. I will see you and the entire you then.” He continued when she didn’t respond. The radio cut then, and she was left with silence, and the distant glow of light.

“There’s always tomorrow.” She whispered.


End file.
